One of the not-inconsiderable joys of connoisseurship in Chinese cuisine lies in the nuance and subtlety of the food and of other matters related to dining. When you have a culture as old as China’s, you’re going to evolve a lot of that kind of thing. This occurred to us upon visiting the new Movoc Hot Pot (6329 Delmar), which joined the already fairly warm pot of new eateries that are bubbling along that street.
Actually, what we noticed first was the nearly floor-to-ceiling array of chilled foods in bins that dominate one wall of the small place. Tendrils of frosted air swirl around—it’s like someone left open the door of a giant refrigerator.
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But then we saw the illuminated sign stretched across much of the opposite wall. It’s a masterful piece of calligraphy; roughly translated, it talks about the delights of China’s “mala” or “piquantly spicy” traditions that come from Chongqing. It’s the style of the calligraphy, though, that stands out. It’s a modern take that relies more on a Japanese mode of writing that’s not always appreciated by Chinese calligraphy enthusiasts who sometimes call it riben xianqi, or “with a Japanese aroma.” It’s avant garde, sort of in your face, and it’s one of those subtle clues that this place is different. And Movoc delivers. The idea of malatang, or individual hot pots, for every diner isn’t particularly unusual. But the idea of a DIY assembly that’s turned over for cooking in the kitchen is definitely novel.
You know how you go to hot pot places, and the first thing they ask is if it’s your first visit. Like, “Why, yes. I’ve never before been to a business where I choose food on a menu and then it’s prepared and served to me. How does that work?” Well, here, if it is your first visit, you may need some guidance, because it’s a little different.
That giant wall o’ food is where things get going. You’ll get a hubcap-size trencher and make your way through the line, cafeteria-style. Choose whatever you like, as much as you like. When you reach the other end, someone will weigh your order. You pay by the pound. Yes, it seems a little, uh, “feeding troughs at the stockyard”-style dining. Think of it, though, as a nice refinement of the usual hotpot experience, where you can customize to your heart’s content. Have a penchant for cubes of duck blood? Load up. Want an all-vegetable meal? Your choice.
A variety of broths are the specialty. They range, in terms of heat, from “Wow!” to “Is it actually legal to serve this?” Locally, only some of the dishes at Pan Asia’s café can match the quality of authentic Xianjiang broth here at Movoc. Most of us know the term mala, that unique combination of heat and flavor that simultaneously numbs the tongue and explodes the taste buds. It’s the signature savor of Szechuan cuisine. It’s also easy to get it wrong, to focus only on the volcanic elements of chilies and peppers. The experience here is so much more.
The pool of broth that arrives at your table (there are small chafing candles lit under the stand holding the wok-like pots) is a visual masterpiece. Red and russet oil is so deeply hued that the color itself actually seems pungent. Slivers of carmine chilies float alongside tiny BBs of green Szechuan peppers and sesame seeds. A spoonful is a revelation. Yes, it’s hot. Notice, though, that under the heat is a whole catalogue of flavors; smoke and earthy notes of cumin, the spark of ginger, and that exotic pop of cardamom. It’s the heat that will have you salivating; it’s the elixir of spices that keep you spooning it up.
If it’s your first visit, then your best bet is to go with the basic No. 1 broth. If you’re one of those auto-incinerating flagellants who use habañero sauce as an aperitif, then go up one number, but don’t venture past the No. 2 without at least sampling it. This is some serious, weapons-grade palate pyrotechnics. There’s a dry seasoning offered; it doesn’t provide the extravagant subtleties—there’s that word again—of the broths that are served here.
Rice cookers provide all you can eat; dribble a spoonful of the broth into your rice bowl, and realize you could make a meal out of just that soupy delight.
As for ingredients, if you’re trying to cut back on duck blood (no need to, though—it’s a firm but slippery texture with the mouthfeel and taste of foie gras) or “duck paws,” there is plenty else to fill your bowl. Hefty beef ribs—the meat is tenderized perfectly in the cooking process. There are mussels and abalone, with the latter like a delicate cross of clam and oyster. There’s also sweet Chinese sausage, as well as shrimp, fish cake balls, squid, baby octopus, and crab legs. There’s a variety of Chinese greens, corn on the cob, okra nibbles, and a tumble of different noodles. It’s really an amazing assortment and provides the perfect opportunity to try something new.
Movoc is another weirdly named Chinese eatery, along with the nearby Si Kao Life. In this case, it’s the name of the Chongqing conglomerate that owns the franchise. The restaurant has that spotless, bright white interior and futuristic minimalism that we associate with an Ikea cafeteria if it was on the Starship Enterprise. The lingua franca is Mandarin among the clientele, most of whom are Chinese university students who appear happy to have another authentic eatery in town.
Movoc Hot Pot
📍6329 Delmar, Delmar Loop
📞 314-932-1838
⏰11 a.m.–10 p.m. daily
